Poetry in Motion

If our Insides were Instruments

If our insides were instruments what would they look like?

I think that your heart would be a snare drum

thumping like the heartbeat of waves,

on a stormy day.

*thump,thump, thump*

and your fingers the keys on a piano

gently drawing out the sun.

The veins in your wrist are violins and the knife in your hand is a bow,

If our insides were instruments,

your rib cage would be a Cello,

I recently found out that you mastered that too.

I can see where you have carved notes into it,

If our insides were instruments,

You would be a stellar composer

in my minds eye I can see your symphony,

swirling red notes gushing from your violin.

The snare drum in your chest beating harder,

to keep up with the tempo of the cello

being mercilessly played on your side,

I watch you, I cant stop you as you play long into the night,

Your fingers turning red with the music that you make.

But its only on those days where the moon bleeds blue,

that the stars can finally start crying too,

and the space man will stop telling you,

that its all in your mind.

and then honey,

only then honey

can you cry.